


Never Spoken Truths

by Sigmund



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Forgiveness, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5926261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigmund/pseuds/Sigmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos finds out that d'Artagnan had a dalliance with Milady, and from there an arm shot turns to a side shot in 1.10</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Spoken Truths

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, AZGirl. She improved this with her suggestions and had me think about the title, too.  
> Thank you to those who read, kudo and review. It is appreciated and honor.

 

Porthos had cornered Athos as the older man threatened once more tried to get passed the larger man.

“Perhaps it is best you leave to let him cool down, then we will see you in the morning.” Aramis quickly shuffled d’Artagnan to the door of Athos’s apartment. “Yes?”

The sharpshooter waited for d’Artagnan to nod. “Alright. Aramis, I didn’t know-“ the younger man tried to explain his dealings with Athos’s presumed dead wife again.

“I know,” Aramis stated, shutting the door once d’Artagnan stepped out.

A restless night followed, and as he was up early the next morning he thought it best to talk to Treville. The truth would come out about Milady including the fact that she was working with the Cardinal, and was involved with an attempt on the Queen’s life.

With heavy steps d’Artagnan found himself standing in front of the captain’s door. He took a deep breath after knocking. “Sir, may I speak to you for a moment?”

“What is it?” The captain’s gruffness did not dissuade him.

“I may have wronged Athos, and if he feels that way, then it would be difficult to serve with him.”

Treville put away his paperwork and gave d’Artagnan his undivided attention. “How have you wronged him?”

“His wife is alive, aligned with the Cardinal, and I accepted assistance from her in the past.”

The Captain blinked as if trying to absorb all of what d’Artagnan had told him. “You’ve been in Paris less than a year.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Some time apart may be a fix until you can work out your differences. You can take palace duty with Edwin.”

“Thank you, Captain.” D’Artagnan did not know if a separation would be enough. Quickly he wrote a note, sealing it and left it with Jacques, the stable hand, to give to Athos when he arrived.

* * *

 

“The Captain told me to work out whatever was going on with d’Artagnan.” As he came down the stairs to join his friends, Athos shook his head even though the movement caused it to ache even more. Aramis kindly held out a glass of water, which Athos drank in the hopes the wine would leave his body quickly.

Before he could speak any further with Porthos and Aramis, they were interrupted by Jacques. “Sir, this was left for you.”

Athos closed his eyes after reading the missive left by d’Artagnan. He passed the note to Aramis.

“He is a bit dramatic.” The sharpshooter passed the note, but added another comment, “But, even I thought that you were going strike him.”

Porthos also defended the boy. “Wasn’t until you finished that bottle that you stopped talking under your breath about ending him.”

“I have regained my composure.” Athos did not approve of his reaction. It showed the hold Anne still had on him that for an evening he believed d’Artagnan had wronged him.

Porthos bumped his shoulder to break the reverie. “What would you like to do?”

“Wait until he returns, tell him he is full of nonsense, then form a plan with Treville on stopping her and the Cardinal.”

* * *

 

The day was ending, but d’Artagnan had made good time to return to the garrison. As he entered, he saw Athos and the others waiting for him. The Gascon owed Athos the right of the duel. He squared his shoulders to attend to the matter with honor. “I want to apologize again.”

Athos had his arms crossed. “No apology needed. You didn’t know she was my wife. You didn’t know me. It may have been unwise to sleep with a woman in the company of another man.” Athos bowed his head.

“And then not mention that she had helped you,” Aramis added.

Porthos gave d’Artagnan a strong pat on his shoulder that had him stumbling a step forward. “But being an idiot is something that we can fix.”

D’Artagnan was overwhelmed at the thought of forgiveness. “Would you like to duel?”

The edge of Athos’s mouth turned up a bit. “I am tired and would rather save it for training.” Athos reached out to place a hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder. “We will never talk about this again.”

Instead, they formed a plan that would be set in motion as soon as they could ascertain Milady’s whereabouts. D’Artagnan wasn’t sure he liked a plan where he got shot. He understood the reason, trusted Athos to wing his arm, and had to be satisfied it would lead to success.

Aramis assured him there would be very limited damage and a small scar for his trouble.

When the ruse happened, being shot in the side was a surprise. D’Artagnan saw Athos reposition the gun to lower it. In a second he was wounded, feeling as though he was dying. He heard his friends, but only felt pain that spread throughout his body to his soul. _Athos had tried to kill him._

When he awoke in Milady’s clutches, the wound was still sore, but he stuck to the plan to meet his friends at the garrison.

“You were supposed to hit my shoulder.” D’Artagnan winced as his voice trembled. The Gascon felt a spark of fear as he waited for the answer.

“A shot to the side is more authentic, and I did have three bottles of wine.”

D’Artagnan placed his hand over the throbbing injury. He had no immediate reply to Athos. D’Artagnan gulped the doubt. “She wants me to kill you.”

* * *

 

With Anne gone from his life and the locket no longer a needed reminder, Athos had to rid himself of another anchor to the past.

The drinking had led to an almost irreparable event, almost swaying him to give into a crime of passion and revenge. Athos had risked d’Artagnan’s life. Not in the way that was expected when one was a soldier, but something personal.

Taking the leave Treville had offered, he went into his room to detoxify. He thought he wanted to be alone so he could vomit, shake and come apart in private. It started that way the first day, but the second day he was so lost he did not hear Porthos and Aramis enter.

“I knew where I was aiming,” he admitted as he purged his soul.

Aramis tutted as Porthos pried him off the floor.

They stayed with him, cleaned him up to set him back on a clearer path so that in the end he was ready to report to the garrison as the lieutenant the Musketeers always deserved.

Aramis had left them a little earlier to find d’Artagnan. Athos needed to talk to him. Porthos and Athos took their time walking to the garrison. It was a familiar walk, but Athos felt lighter.

The sharpshooter was waiting for them without their younger brother.

“Where is d’Artagnan?”

“The lad still with Constance?” Porthos asked Aramis.

“Constance is pursuing her marriage with her husband. The man tried to kill himself.”

Athos scratched the side of his beard. D’Artagnan had lost Constance, and they had not been there to provide some solace. “What has he done?”

“He asked Treville for a fortnight so he could return to Lupiac. The Cardinal finally provided the reimbursement he was due months ago”

“We should follow.” Athos thought about how hard they could ride to make up the time.

Porthos shook his head. “We would just meet him on the road. We’ll have to wait the week.”

“You worry.” Aramis gripped the cross on his neck. “He’ll forgive you.”

Athos gave a short nod. The siren of wine was calling to him. He ignored the whispers that permeated his mind. Aramis had warned him the craving would always be there to drink to excess. He had survived much, he could survive this and make amends.

* * *

 

After being dismissed by Constance, d’Artagnan wandered to the garrison with the expectation of finding his friends waiting for him. “They’re not here.”

He climbed the stairs, more tired than he thought possible and went to his bed, blocking out his wounded heart and side.

It was morning, he had overslept his usual waking time though he could hear the bustle below from the garrison yard. With a groan, he sat up to gingerly shift his feet over the side of the bed, not ready to face his friends.

He stayed in his room, straightening it up, waiting for them, but they never came. The wound needed a new bandage and he tended to it. It seemed to be healing well, but would take some time. Because the bullet had cracked a rib, the bruising was still spectacular.

The Captain had advised time apart before, which had helped. Bonacieux was willing to attempt suicide to get Constance. What did Athos want to do? Kill the man who slept with his wife? D’Artagnan was grateful that Treville had allowed him time to go to Gascony.

Weary from the hard ride and the general busyness - two weeks was too short of time to get his affairs in order. He had salvaged a few precious objects that were not caught in the fire— a knife that belonged to his father with the handle slightly scorched, but still usable; knitting needles that belonged to his mother, even though everything she had knitted was now gone; and a horseshoe to keep as a memory of better days. D’Artagnan made plans for a house to be built with the money from the Cardinal had finally deemed to give for reparations. It would be a modest shelter, but something there nonetheless. Tenants were willing to farm, especially with the low rent he offered that would allow them to live and pay the taxes.

In times of loneliness his father would remind him that he had the land. D’Artagnan wanted to honor his family even though his life was now about being a Musketeer. He would still have the land with the idea that it would manage itself to some extent.

Pressing, he returned to the garrison at night, not expecting any greeting. Saddlebags in hand, he made his way to the Captain’s office to inform him of his arrival. There was still a glow in the window, which told him that Treville was available.

The Captain earned himself a bottle of Gascony’s best for allowing d’Artagnan to take a leave. To his surprise Athos was seated across from Treville.

“You’ve returned,” Athos said.

“Just,” d’Artagnan replied. “Sir, for you.”

Treville smiled as he cradled the bottle realizing from the label what it was. “Your farm is settled?”

“Yes, there is a manager I trust and tenants who are willing.” They continued with pleasantries for the next few minutes until d’Artagnan excused himself. He was tired. The ride had been stressful for him to return in the allotted time.

Athos followed him out. “I know you wish to rest, but may we speak for a moment?”

D’Artagnan motioned to his room. “I should have told you about my plans to go to Lupiac.” It was petty of him, but he was upset when his friends had essentially disappeared after the battle they had just been through to save Constance.

“You sought us out after returning to the garrison,” Athos confirmed. “Aramis and Porthos were helping me.”

The young Musketeer took a better look at his friend after they made it into his room and lit some candles. “Are you ill?” he asked, though the man’s appearance was the contrary.

Athos shook his head. “I am better. Though I wronged you.”

“Wronged me?” d’Artagnan placed his saddle bags on the one of the chairs, then went to sit on his bed while Athos took the remaining chair.

“You were supposed to be shot in the arm. The drinking and Anne affected my aim.” Athos gestured to d’Artagnan’s healed side.

The young man placed a hand over his former wound. It was shocking to hear a verification and apology from his mentor. “How?”

Athos’s posture slumped. “I drank the wine so that I could force myself to shoot.”

D’Artagnan nodded. He could understand how difficult it would be to shoot a friend. “You were upset that I had relations with your wife.”

The older man bowed his head. “It’s been years. There were men before me, and I am sure after me. You were—“

“But I’m the first one you’ve known that you could take some sort of revenge on.” D’Artagnan was able to summarize the situation as he interrupted his mentor. He counted himself lucky that Bonacieux was not a type to challenge to a duel since he would have been within his rights.

Athos lifted his head. “I have curtailed my consumption of wine to make amends.”

“I hope for yourself.” It was an evening full of surprises. His mentor functioned with wine in his blood. D’Artagnan looked forward to this new Athos, showing his unsurpassed strength. “I was confused when it happened and questioned our friendship. In the end, I decided it was but one moment among the entirety of what you all have taught me, shared, and accepted, can easily be ignored especially since I am still alive and France was saved.”

The older man gave him a small grin. “We shall never speak of this again?” Athos reiterated his earlier words.

“Not from me. I will see you in the morning?” D’Artagnan wanted to confirm the return to their usual behaviors.

Athos stood up, tucked the chair into the table. “At breakfast then. I am sure Porthos and Aramis will also want to hear about your journey. Goodnight.”

Pulling off his boots and doublet, d’Artagnan laid back in bed looking forward to continuing the journey with his Musketeer brothers by his side for a long time to come.


End file.
